


Tastes Like Pink

by bostonbarfight



Category: Duran Duran
Genre: M/M, Seven Minutes In Heaven, drunk, sleepover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-14 01:51:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13583466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bostonbarfight/pseuds/bostonbarfight
Summary: Five boys. Copious amounts of alcohol. One game of 7 Minutes in Heaven. One unrequited crush.





	Tastes Like Pink

John couldn't help but notice Nick's lips. Soft and supple and rosy under the dim lights of the lounge. They were so feminine for a guy. However, given his look, it wasn't all that surprising. In the alcoholic haze of John's mind thoughts swirled; ones which would never cross his mind in the routine of a normal day.

'I wonder what his lips taste like'  
'I wonder how they would feel against mine'  
'I wonder what he'd do if I leaned over and kissed him'

John swayed gently back and forth while his brain pondered thoughts on a different plane of existence to his body.

"John. John!" He was snapped out of his trance by an insistent Simon.

"Uh huh. Yeah? What?" He mumbled, mildly shaken.

"What do YOU think of the new Roxy album?" Simon questioned, his head tilted like an expectant puppy. 

"Umm, The Space Between is a good track." John suggested, shrugging his shoulders. The rest of the group nodded sagely. This answer seemed to satisfy them all and they turned to continue their no doubt mindblowing conversation about music.

Nick - John noticed - was not so intently focused on this conversation as one would expect. How could he not be interested in Roxy Music or David Bowie? It was right up Nick's alley! But no, instead he was swirling his can absentmindedly, letting the dregs of his third drink race around inside the aluminium. John had already far surpassed him and was on his fifth cruiser, which is perhaps the reason why a funny fog had descended on his brain and he wasn't thinking straight.

While his observations were taking place, Simon and Andy had managed to work themselves into a heated argument about Spandau Ballet. It was less an argument and more a loud state of agreement that for some reason they were furious about.

John's placid brown eyes lay lazily fixed onto Nick's own emerald ones, watching as they darted between Simon and Andy, following almost as quick as they exchanged incensed words. They broke off the two for a moment to peer at his own fingernails, inspecting them for imperfections that did not exist. They then snapped onto something else.

It took John a moment to realise Nick was returning his look, although instead of gazing back dreamily he was confused. John shook his head rapidly as if to clear the fairy thoughts from his head before looking down guiltily. A crimson flush spread across his cheeks, and he hoped the darkness in the lounge would obscure it.

"Now, who's up for seven minutes in heaven? Come onnnn, it's a party!" Simon's ridiculous suggestion was enough to snap John out of his trance again. (It always seemed to be Simon ruining his pleasant dreams). He raised his hand and was just about to register his objection before he saw Nick nodding, a sly smile creeping across his face. He lowered his hand and began nodding also.

Of course, he wasn't going along with it just because of Nick! Psh, that's a stupid suggestion. After all, Simon did say it's a party, and we're all drunk, so what's the harm?

The five of them arranged themselves into a circle on the floor. Simon, Andy, and Roger were already in position from their earlier talks, so Nick and John slid off their respective couches to join them. Simon used an empty can as the 'bottle', scribbling a crude arrow on it in a black vivid he found lying around. He placed it in the middle of the circle.

"You guys all ready? The cupboard's in my room." He grinned. Various nods and 'yes's' chorused from the other four boys. "Alright then. here we go!" Simon announced excitedly, giving the bottle a zealous spin.

The arrow landed on Roger. Sweet shy Roger. John had always associated him with blueberries, for some reason. Simon was peach, Andy, lemon, and Nick. Nick was strawberries. The most delicious strawberries you could think of. The ones where you bite into them and the juice runs down your chin. The ones that you dipped in chocolate and you've never tasted anything better. The ones so luscious and red and shiny you can't help but partake.

The can once again spun around on the floor, arrow passing each of them by, everyone on the edge of their seat as it slowed to a standstill.

Simon.

John almost felt sorry for lovely Roger as he was pulled eagerly to the cupboard by an over excited Simon. Polar opposites, but they were like puzzle pieces and never failed to fit well. They would undoubtedly have a lovely seven minutes.

The three were silent as the other two did their business away from prying ears. Apart from Andy's interjecting comments such as: 

"Y'know, I heard Simon can come in three minutes and suck someone off in six. If he can combine them both he's gonna come out here off his head."

"Anyone got a cup, stethoscope even? I wanna go listen at the door."

"Poor Rog, Simon's like the energiser bunny and he's like a dead battery. Not to be rude or anything!"

Nick and John were silent. John didn't dare look at Nick as he knew Andy would pick up on it and ridicule him out loud.

It seemed an age before Simon and Roger returned, but they finally did seven and a half minutes later (according to the clock on the wall). 

Roger's cheeks had turned a deep crimson shade, and his shirt was ruffled as if he'd hurriedly put it on. Simon was bright pink and glowing, and his fly was undone. 

"Well, this is a mighty successful game huh? NEXT!"

He spun the bottle once again. This time the chosen victims were Nick and Andy. John felt a strange tug on his heart as he watched his beautiful boy step out of the room with the boy with too-long greasy hair and a ripped up AC/DC shirt. Hang on a second. Pretty boy? John really was losing it.

Six minutes and 43 painful seconds later, Andy and Nick stepped back in the room. To John's relief, they both looked just how they did when they first left, except for the frown crossing Andy's face.

"Jesus Christ Simon, couldn't even clean up after yourself? If I was a girl I could've gotten pregnant just looking at that. You're bloody disgusting, Le Bon!" Simon burst into peals of laughter at this statement. Nick let himself smile a bit, but didn't chide Simon.

The can once again went round and round, choosing its prisoners to take them to the seven minute jail that was Simon's (now soiled) bedroom cupboard. The first chosen was Simon. He clapped his hands and rubbed them together with delight.

"Hmm, so who do I get to play with now?" He mused as the can made its painful rotations.

The hurried scribble pointed squarely at John. He stood, stretching his legs as he did. He took Simon's hand jokingly as he made what seemed like the longest walk of his life.

The door to the cupboard closed. He could barely see Simon apart from a shadowy outline. When Simon spoke it shocked him.

"Whatcha wanna do Johnny boy?" He said. John stood silent. He wasn't quite sure.

"I won't do what me and Roger did, J. I'll be gentle with you, you're like a toothpick and I'd probably snap you if I tried anything." He chuckled. John felt Simon leaning in and felt a bit panicked. He did not want to be here in this cupboard with him. Not when there was someone else.

"W-what did you do with Roger?" He managed to stammer out.

"You really want to know?" John couldn't see, but he knew Simon was smirking. "Well, knowing Andy, he probably guessed just what we did."

"Oh." John swallowed thickly. "I won't do that, but we can kiss if you like."

"Yeah. I'd like." Simon said. His voice seemed to have dropped a little. It was deeper, more sultry in the enclosed space.

His lips closed the gap and met John's. The fit wasn't quite what he hoped but he went along with it, wrapping his arms firmly around Simon's torso, running his hands gently up and down Simon's back. His long fingers danced along his spine.

Simon's lips tasted of whiskey and blueberries. John had sobered up slightly through his stressing over being chosen that he couldn't help but chase the alcohol across Simon's tongue, trying to bring back the pleasurable cloudy mindset he had been in not so long ago. Simon eagerly reciprocated, and his hands flew to cup johns face, his thumbs tracing over John's jawline and cheekbone. His kisses migrated from his mouth to the corner of his lips, drawing a line down his jaw, his neck, lips sucking at his skin to form a bruise which pooled in his collarbone. Simon worked his way back up to John's lips, his hips pressing rather firmly against John's own as he did so. John was unsure about what to do about what he felt pressing against him so he stayed silent, choosing to focus on the warm alcohol stained lips on his, trying to kiss the drunk feeling back into his own system.

After what seemed like hours of making out, Simon's lips disconnected from his own.

"Well, you're good but you're no Roger." were his parting words as he dragged John from the cupboard. John took a quick peek in the mirror on the way out and was relieved to see he looked mostly put together apart from the small purple mark hiding in his collarbone. He pulled the neck of his shirt up to hide it.

Nick watched him as he sat back down again, raising an eyebrow suggestively at him, accusing him of dirty deeds. John shook his head but showed him the hickey Simon had given him as if to prove that he wasn't the one to initiate things in there. Communicating only in facial expressions and eyebrow movements but still getting the message across was one of the most useful things about being friends with Nick.

John noticed that Nick had an unopened cruiser sitting next to him.

"Hey, do you wanna share that? I've sobered up a bit and knowing this game I don't think that's the state I wanna be in."

"Sure." Nick replied, cracking open the top of the can with a carbon dioxide hiss. He raised the can to his lips and took a sip, eyes matching johns the whole time. John gulped. Nick passed him the can and licked the residue off his lips. John took a sip of his own before turning to watch the spin of the can that Simon had newly initiated.

Simon. Roger. Nick. John. Andy. Simon. Roger. Nick. John. Andy.

The relentless spin lasted for what seemed like many eternities before coming to a rest.

Nick Rhodes was in the firing line. When the next spin started, John wasn't sure why he felt the urge to cross his fingers in the hope it may be him.

Turns out he didn't have to, as the arrow landed on him. It seemed to accuse him of almost wanting this to occur. He couldn't exactly deny it. Nick easily swallowed the remainder of the alcohol in the can.

"Shall we?" he smiled, offering John a hand up from the floor. John eagerly took it.

The walk to the cupboard took twice as long with Nick as it did with Simon. John's heart was beating fast, too fast. It felt as if it would burst straight out of his ribcage.

Nick was first into the cupboard. John followed, squeezing past him into the far corner. Nick pulled the door closed. The two boys were thrust into sudden darkness. Once again, John could barely tell there was someone opposite him if it weren't for the faint shadowy outline. 

Nick cleared his throat. 

"So," he said. "What do you want to do?"

A flood of adrenaline soared through John's veins at this simple question.

"Nick?" He dared to ask tentatively.

"Yeah, John?" 

"What would you do if I leaned over and kissed you right now?"

Nick's reply came in the form of lips against his. John's hands instinctively flew to cup Nick's delicate face, his fingers caressing his jaw. Their lips moved in perfect sync. If they were music this would be the harmony. A thousand senses exploded within John's mind, all culminating in this experience. Nick Rhodes was kissing him. He was kissing Nick Rhodes. His best friend. On the lips.

They pulled apart gently, leaning close still so their foreheads touched. They stood, holding each other, just breathing. Drinking in each other's presence. Every so often John would lean in a bit further to steal chaste kisses from the younger boy. 

"John?" Nick asked on a whisper.

"Yeah, Nick?"

"Can we continue this... when we leave the cupboard?"

"Yeah."

-

Within seven minutes John Taylor had all his questions answered.

'I wonder what he'd do if I leaned over and kissed him?'

He would kiss you back.

'I wonder how his lips would feel against mine?'

Sweet, like spun sugar. Light, like a butterfly. Soft, like velvet.

'I wonder what his lips taste like?'

His lips taste like strawberries. The most delicious strawberries you could think of. The ones where you bite into them and the juice runs down your chin. The ones that you dip in chocolate and you've never tasted anything better. The ones so luscious and red and shiny you can't help but partake. 

He tastes like pink.


End file.
